Mayyyybe, if I write on here, you will all get the message at once, and I won’t have to worry about not being in touch with you all, all the time, or at least often enough for you to know I still think of you as a good friend. I feel overwhelmed again today. I started out on form but the day wore me down. I felt more competent and polite and warm with the customers at work than I ever have. But I still come home to a cup of tea and msn and the same deep empty pull in my stomach. The same want to walk out and say fuck you all, none of this means anything and I’d rather have a bath. My friends are just as low if not further engrossed in the same black cloud as me at the moment, and I want to be there for them. I am here, by the way, if you do read this, any time of day or night, I don’t care how close we are or when we last spoke, I am here for you if you want SOMEONE to talk to, vent to, I know that feeling and I have tried people at 3am to no avail. I have tried and got hold of a boyfriend. You should all know by now too that it feels good to think you are making someone happy too, it is psychological fact that the giver of favours is always more satisfied than the receiver. So let me give whenever I can. I know I don’t call on all of you as much as I maybe should. I will get round to all those phonecalls, I promise.
I got a gift tonight that made me cry a bit inside. Thank you. It was a very sweet thing. You clearly know me very well.
Last night before I fell asleep I hallucinated a woman’s voice, very loud and clear, in my ear, saying, ‘They’ve gone to bed.’ First time I’ve heard a voice that wasn’t there. I continue to see half visions every now and then. I really wish my chemical imbalances could manifest them in physical ways, (perhaps preventing me from work?) as opposed to this psychosis. I never thought I’d be in this box. I think it’s given a bad name really because it does sound cliché but it’s so much more real than that.
I still feel crazy. I still feel down. I need a bigger dose please, and I want the government to care instead of making me fill out a monthly questionnaire based on figures that are supposed to deduce my levels of anxiety and depression, and then get filed away in a dusty corridor to be pulled out as evidence when I hit someone’s car, or get thrown away when I say I am better. I guess I’m being harsh. I just know what happened to our evaluation forms at university. AND, if you care so much how I feel that you’ve made it the law for my doctor to give that to me, maybe you could take some time to acknowledge, diagnose and address it for me? Being the health department and all.
Aside from the moaning. A suppressed worry is surfacing, having been kept at bay for the duration of my relationship with my boyfriend so far. I feel almost like he doesn’t know the real me, that either I have hidden certain aspects of it from him, or he has chosen to ignore them because he doesn’t like them. Little things add to this, like the way he doesn’t really care for massage, which is such a massively good thing in my eyes that it shocks me how he can refuse them and really not care at all. What is wrong with you, I think. Well. Maybe he just isn’t into it. So what got him into me? I know I am more than massage. But what am I, if I am not the things I can summon when asked what I do and enjoy. And shouldn’t he love everything I do and even NEED it, on a daily basis, for the rest of his life? Am I surplus to his existence? To everyone’s? Is there a reason I was loud and beautiful and noticed in the street until I started school and then shut myself up and was never heard, but still thought myself top of the class until I was fourteen and was told we plateau, is there a reason I always dreamed big and ignored the hard facts of drama being a redundant career choice and fannied on with it till the age of twenty-two and then slumped into this massive pool that seems to have been hoarding all my negativity and paranoia from years past, bubbling with hurtful memories of things like shutting bunnies in doors by accident, and getting my first disappointed look from a teacher, calling my mother something awful. Is there a reason I went through all of this, pulled myself up, thought myself wonderful at the core, strode back to reality with an ‘I’m ready’ smile on my face, and ended up serving people ice cream while they shout at me like a problem child. Is there a reason I have never, though I’ve wanted to, said ‘Yes, that’s what I gave you because that’s what you asked for, now fuck off before I spit in it,’ and thrown my baseball cap on the floor, headed for the sunshine that taunts us from outside all day every day. Real life awaits. This can’t go on forever. If it does for much longer, I am sorry life, but I’ve had enough and I can’t keep waiting. If better isn’t ready for me yet, I think it’s time to give up.